The Prodigal Father with two sons.....

“The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the estate I have coming to me.' So he distributed the assets to them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered together all he had and traveled to a distant country, where he squandered his estate in foolish living……….But [the older son] replied to his father, 'Look, I have been slaving many years for you, and I have never disobeyed your orders, yet you never gave me a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when [the younger son] of yours came, who has devoured your assets with prostitutes, you slaughtered the fattened calf for him.' (Luke 15:12-13, 29-30 HCSB)

I knew this parable, now correctly identified theologically as “The Story of Two Sons”, as the Prodigal Son and have written on my blog about it. The worst thing in the world I ever heard was, “You are just like your father.” The first comment caused me, when I left home at the age of sixteen and turned my back on ‘The Church” to hate looking in the mirror because I was reminded of whom I looked like. Granted, my father was no saint and did a lot of things that were wrong but I understand him more and the wounds that he himself carried in the darkness of this world. Indeed, we were very much alike.

I left home at sixteen, boldly telling both my fathers (earthly as well as the heavenly) that I was done with them and would be a shining example of the problematic son that would only bring grief in the telling of who’s I was. A majority of my testimony I’ll probably never tell in one sitting because of the places I went and the darkness I wrapped myself up into. Much like the younger son, whom squandered the inheritance, I was for the majority of my life. I even squandered the financial inheritance my father sent me a few months after I left home. I was, in my opinion, everything my earthly father hated in one of his offspring. What I didn't know is that everyday my heavenly Father looked longingly down the road for my profile to crest the hill.

The greatest thing I ever heard on this earth was, “I was never, for one minute, ashamed of you.” I can remember sitting down in the living room of my earthly father’s trailer on the farm in Gladwin and telling him I had traveled up there to ‘bury the hatchet’ for my own sake, if not for him. I was tired of running away from myself because of who I reminded myself of and I was sorry that I had been a son of whom he was ashamed. The shock on his face, along with the words he spoke, was not what I had practiced for or expected. We didn't suddenly become close, hugging and weeping in each other’s arms and when he passed away a few months later, the intensity of the sorrow was partly for that lack of intimate love a father and son should have had…..but, that step was part of the journey I began to take to understand the man I knew as my father. To this day, I look in the mirror and thank God for the memory that presents itself to me of the man known as Ronald Lawrence Hutson.

I thought my connection to this parable ended there, but my heavenly Father taught me something in the last year that had me realize that this was not true.

Against my heavenly Father, I have been an older son too, especially in regards to the pursuit of His purpose for me. It has been a struggle, fighting the wounds of the past and dealing with the circumstances of my sinful life. I am very much older, physically, than my chronological age because of the abuses I once visited upon a body I didn't care for and the emotional scarring that was allowed in the darkness to tighten and limit my mental health. Much of the last year has been a ‘quieting’ of the ‘What about me?” syndrome that has haunted the lessons and discipling that the Lord has put me through, at my request, because I have surrendered all I am to His shaping. It has been hard, this redemption of my mind and soul, because I've struggled with the concept of love and mercy and grace…..and why, if I was ‘doing so well’ I still faced the struggles I did. Much like the older son, I wanted the bigger portion because I had done the ‘bigger’ growing.

The greatest thing I've ever heard from the Heavens is “"'Son,' he said to him, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.””

As always, I have learned, it is a choice that you have to make; both initially and continuously, whether you will remain outside the party in anger at the celebration of sibling or go inside to raise your heart in praise at what the Father has done.

And that is a prodigal move either way.

Burdened by the race…..

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:1-2 NIV)

"Temptation is a suggested short cut to the realization of the highest at which I am --- not towards what I understand as evil, but towards what I understand as good." Oswald Chambers writes in My Utmost For His Highest. "Temptation is something that completely baffles me for a while; I do not know whether the thing is right or wrong. Temptation yielded to is lust deified, and is a proof that it was timidity that prevented the sin before. Temptation is not something we may escape, it is essential to the full-orbed life of a man…….God does not save us from temptations; He succours us in the midst of them."

One might wonder why the race Paul speaks of in Hebrews and the explanation of Temptation by Chambers would be put together in today's blog that I write. I would wonder to, if I was still amazed how God draws my attention to various things to get a point across that I've yet to grasp.

George, of Worthy News Ministry in Israel, sent the devo for the Hebrews verse today. "I bet you're tired today. You are done…..overworked, overstressed, overwhelmed." He concludes his devo. "But be encouraged! Just when you think you can't run any further, you can! C'mon! Press through and press on for the great prize! God is with us, strengthening our feeble knees and moving us in the right direction!!"

I have become so tired of the stresses that living in this world surely bears upon each one of us, and the additional stresses that come from being a single parent, and the additional stresses of being a parent of a special needs child. It is amazing to me how dimly even the church family views a single parent, especially of the male persuasion, and the unique position they find themselves in, either by design, by life or the surrendering of another to the temptations of sin. There isn't a ministry in the whole body of the church that has addresses the single parent father. And, if they do not have 'everything organized', they are overlooked and isolated from the body. Often they are the silent ones who glide through the church experience in silence…..never letting anyone know of their situation because of the stigma attached to single fatherhood. Add to that a special needs child and the simplified expectation of fellowship becomes a complicated dance….

The burden got heavier last night as I sat outside…my son came up to me and asked, "Dad, can I talk to you?"

My son has transferred into the Plymouth-Canton School district and is going to school with his cousin at Central. Not even a week later, last night, my son sat down and cried his hurting heart out because of the bullies who have classified him as different and begun to verbally abuse him. Even the 'friend' he had made rejected him and doesn't talk to him anymore. My son, the most compassionate and caring person in the world, is isolated because of his disability. He wants to quit, he doesn't want to go to school anymore and doesn't want to face the bullies who have hurt him so much. And I couldn't help him…..couldn't protect him from this, even though I know the pain he feels and the hurt confusion as to why there are those who reject that which could be the best thing they've experienced – a compassionate friend.

All I could tell him is something that, at the time, seems so inadequate for his pain. "You are MY son. I love you. It doesn't matter what others say or do, you are my BELOVED son, with whom I am very proud." I told him I won't let him give up on himself by tucking his tail between his legs and whimpering out of the room. I told him, "You are MY son and are strong. You will walk out of that room (we are in the process of transferring him to a better suited environment for his learning, ironically) with your head held high and smile at your tormentors when you leave."

We prayed, that God would show my son the strength and love he has been given, that God would move in the bully's life and show him compassion and that the transfer we will be investigating today will happen quickly. And comfort returned, for the time, to my son's face and his heart. I had taken it upon my own.

Later, as I finished the email to his teachers, vice-principal and principal, I sat there weary. It will only get worse, I know, as the compulsion of the world to categorize and despise my son because of his cognitive impairment, to keep that compassionate and loving heart open…..wounded at it is prone to be….and his eyes on the prize to which he surrendered himself willingly to so many easters ago. With everything else that has happened; having to move to Canton, stay with family, and the burdens of financial problems that seem to never end….this.

I wish that I could find the parents of this bully, sit them down and slap some sense into them. As much as I can't take credit for my son's loving nature, he has learn some of the compassion and caring from me, just like the bully has learned to treat others that are different from him as a verbal punching bag from his. They are always watching, always drawing their clues on behavior accepted and unaccepted. Possibly, the parents would be surprised to hear their little boy is being cruel and would find reason to doubt that it is learned behavior…..as they shun a wheel chaired quad, shunt slanted eyes away from the Down's child or ridicule the handicapped grandmother. It doesn't make it any easier that physically, there is no sign of my son's situation….only when he speaks and other small behavioral things; the way he runs, his memory….

Added to that is the fact he is a Christian; not some run-of-the-mill, momentary attempt, but a living breathing and loving member of the body of Christ. Persecution is coming, even within the body, because of what he has been taught, what he believes.

Sometimes this race seems to stretch so long, so far and the rockiness of the path twists ankles, stubs toes and wounds the feet. Surely, under all this, it is okay to stop running, stop striving for that elusive prize (at those times so it seems) that lies forever over that last hilltop, that last mountain rise…surely the temptation to walk is understandable and acceptable. Surely it was never meant to be so hard.

As I was driving to work this morning, a memory bubbled up from my mind…..Father Ronald Corl. I met the Father when we lived in Detroit, on Hazelton that butts up to the entrance at the St. Paul Monastery where he had just become the Rector. The fence that surrounds the property now was put there in large part to us kids of the neighborhood who would play on the grounds, much to Brother Pat (the head groundskeeper)'s dismay and it was one day while we were playing that we crossed the path of Father Ron, who was just moving in to assume his new duties.

He taught me a love for reading, the walls of his room where covered with books and books…..He taught me acceptance and even was teaching me to be a catholic. I helped him with baptisms, weddings, and other Roman Catholic traditions. But, it was one day as we were running in Hines Park (another thing he taught me, and my older brother Larry) and it came to the point where Larry and I usually stopped, walking to cool down, and where Father Ron kept on running. That day, I didn't stop and kept on running….every muscle in my body wanted to stop, every fiber of my being cried out with the unaccustomed pain….but I refused to stop, I was mad that day…either at my brother or at Father Ron….I don't remember now….and I fed that anger into the pain…pushing my body harder….

It was years later that I would realize what Father Ron saw that day as he ran beside me……a determination to not quit…..that he said he prayed my faith would one day realize. I was told this as I was going into my senior year at Leesburg High. Father Ron and I lost touch when we moved from Hazelton and stayed in contact infrequently until I moved to Florida…..he had been transferred to Orlando some year prior. We met and that was when he told me that; it had stayed with him so many years that impression. He would die from cancer well before that prayer could be realized.

But it wasn't the impression that hit me today, it was that moment in time; as my body was screaming stop and my mind refused to listen….that plateau….where my body surrendered itself to the control of the mind and I pushed past that limit….one I thought I couldn't pass.

And God spoke as that memory arose….."Jim, my dear child….you are MY son…why do you want to give up, tuck your tail between your legs and whimper out of the church? You are so much more than the perception they have of you, you are MY son and beloved….if you go, you will go as My child, your head held high and a compassionate smile on your face for those who persecute you….those who reject you….those who refuse to believe that I have empowered you to speak My word."

The heart God has given me is prone to be hurt, leaving it out on my sleeve as I do fully exposed to the elements of the human condition of self-(whatever). There will be those who are intimidated by my heart…who are scared, jealous or spiteful because I chose to live in the assurance of the finish line. The temptation is and always will be to reach that limit, and to stop running, stop trying and stop hurting. If I surrender to it…if I don't refuse to allow its control, I will, as Chambers says "deify the lust" the temptation holds for the sake of self-protection, only to find that I have become exposed to the sin of selfishness. The road that leads down is self-fulfilling and deadly, for it will choke off the life that I seek to save.

As George relates in his devo, the Athenians in 490 B.C. defeated the Persians under King Darius 1 on the plains near Marathon. The runner, carrying the victorious news to the Greek people ran 26 miles full out, holding nothing back, and when he had delivered the good news, he died. There was times, as any marathon runner since can attest to, when the strength of your training, the preparation of your body and the level of your skill will be reached…..they will plateau. It is those who push through, who look at that plateau and press on, enduring through that limit to reach for the victory prize, that achieve new levels of strength, preparation and skill. We don't compete as the physical athletes do for a prize of trophies or medals, endorsement deals and wealth. We reach for the uncorruptible crown.

It is in that moment of plateauing, where we can't simply go on….the darkness is too deep, the pain to hard to endure and then end not in sight…..that God shows us the joy we have awaiting for us, the strength He's given us to endure and the peace to go the distance, any distance, full out with nothing reserved.

As George is fond of ending his devos with, "There is much work to be done!"

As my son struggles in this situation at school, with those who would bully and persecute him for his special needs, I can run along side him…..pushing him to overcome that plateau where he would give up and endure to reach the end of the race we both run. I can only do it, though, if I run with him….giving him my experience and love to push past it, to endure it and to be totally surrendered to the end.

As my Father in Heaven has taught me so well this past year……..whispering encouragement and love, demanding my best as He shows me I can reach beyond my imposed limits to reach new levels of faith, belief, love, understanding and compassion. He doesn't carry me, He runs alongside me……"I've run this race before, Jim, and I finished…..You are of My blood, you are of My spirit and you are My creation…..keep on…keep on"

As with my son, those who watch this drama with the bully take place will witness his strength, his compassion and his resolve to stand….maybe they will stand in their time too, maybe they will think twice about being a bully. Either way, he will stand.

As with me, my life stands as a testimony to God's grace, mercy and strength….His provision, His love and His desire for me. Maybe they will realize His love and be saved, maybe they will listen to the next Christian who comes to speak with them…..but they will hear.

As for me and my house, we will run the race fully until it is done with the news of the victory that Christ secured for us over our rightful punishment of sin.

Until we achieve the crown.

"In a pit with a Lion on a snow day"...lessons garnered from another

“Benaiah, the son of Jehoiada, a fighting-man of Kabzeel, had done great acts; he put to death two young lions going into their secret place; and he went down into a hole and put a lion to death in time of snow. And he made an attack on an Egyptian, a very tall man about five cubits high, armed with a spear like a cloth-worker's rod; he went down to him with a stick, and pulling his spear out of the hand of the Egyptian, put him to death with that same spear. These were the acts of Benaiah, the son of Jehoiada, who had a great name among the thirty men of war. He was honoured over the thirty, but he was not equal to the first three: and David put him over his servants.” (1 Chronicles 11:22-25 BBE)

A co-worker with whom I have some theological debates from time to time hurried over to me Monday morning as we prepared to work and said, “Who was in charge of David’s bodyguards?” I couldn’t come up with a name, although I knew the exploits of the Mighty Men of David and their existence….men who came to him as ‘men in distress, in debt and embittered in spirit,’ (1 Samuel 22:1-2) numbering 30 among about 400 men of similar dispositions and did great deeds under David, their Captain and future King. We tried to find the reference that my friend had heard, but couldn’t so I asked him for the church’s website to see if I could pull the sermon or audio off the site to study this suddenly perplexing question and see where God was leading me in this. I sent the pastor a message requesting sermon paper or audio.

Pastor John Lane, shepherd of the Bedford Free Methodist Church in Bedford, Indiana, was quick and gracious in his response…..apologizing for the technical difficulties with the audio that caused no recording to be available but who was nice enough to send me a copy of his rough notes for the sermon, prepared for Father’s day and entitled “In A Pit With A Lion On A Snow Day.”

The name that escaped me was Benaiah, which means “Built up by Jehovah.” He was son of Jehoiada, the chief priest, who was set by David over his personal bodyguards of Cherethites and Pelethites (2Sa_8:18; 1Ki_1:32; 1Ch_18:17). The Cherethites, as a people, were the inhabitants of Southern Philistia (Philistines) and many believe they were the ‘executioners’ of David’s decrees. The Pelethites, as a people, were believed to be another group of Philistines and are only mentioned in conjunction with the Cherethites. The word is believed to mean “couriers or runners” and it is that function that many theologians attribute to them. Both groups were standing with the enemy of their countrymen, protecting the very source of that army’s strength and power……in human terms. And Benaiah was the captain of them…in charge of this powerful young man named David. This service would extend to David’s son, Solomon where he would appointed as ‘commander-in-chief’ of the Israelite Army. From a ‘broken’ refugee to the most powerful warrior in the entire nation’s army…..all under the leadership of a man ‘after God’s own heart, built up through the work of the Holy Spirit…..

As I read Pastor Lane’s notes, a powerful sermon for the fathers of the modern age, the image came to my mind of the movie 300, in the opening moments of the tale where the one-eyed solider speaks of the Spartan practice of growing warriors….mighty and powerful warriors….by throwing them out into the wilderness. A young leonius, future King of Sparta who would stand against Xerxes of the Esther tale, is armed with only a spear and is set upon by a mountain lion….he is hungry and cold…..and afraid, to a degree. He uses his terrain against the beast and triumphs, skinning the animal and returning to his people victorious. Much like Lane speaks in his sermon, the focus of which is the defeat of the lion in a pit on a snowy day…..fear is felt but not allowed to control the actions and desire of the young warrior (Benaiah as well as Leonius). The spirit within the young Spartan demands and empowers him to stand in the face of overwhelming odds….The lion is mightier in mass and strength, speed and agility….to overcome this certainty of death. He becomes the King who can command three hundred warriors to stand against a sea of thousands upon thousands of enemy combatants in the assurance of death’s embrace.

In our wilderness, thrust out (unfairly it may seem) by God and similarly apparently alone, we face our lions in the barren harshness of the worldly landscape armed with only a spear…..hungry, cold, tired and our limbs laced with fear…..with only the hope to keep us warm and the spirit’s prompting to move our feet as we stumble backwards against the oncoming assault of the massive beast of our sinfulness……seeking a way out, a salvation that seems will never come…..and, as the beast snarls in unholy rage at the mountain sides that prevent it from reaching us, its prey, striking with a true and desperation-driven thrust……and returning home victorious, our testimony speaking of God’s provision, strength and hope given to us in our need. Too few have only one or two wilderness experiences that drive us into a more dependent and intimate relationship with God….others, like me, require more……much more….coming out at the end something greater than we could ever be without the repetition, servant-warriors of the One, True King.

Benaiah faces his wilderness ‘shaping’ in, as Pastor Lane points out in the biblical text, the form of two Moabite warriors (their best, no some run-of-the-mill conscripted warriors), an Egyptian 7 and ½ feet tall armed with only a ‘stick’ while that giant carried a ‘spear like a weaver’s rod,’ (Lane offers a visual comparison…..Shaquille O’Neal is 7 feet 1 inch tall with a wingspan of 7 inches and a reach of 9 and ½ feet standing) and a lion (Lane gives us some stats; common foe of shepherds in that day, 8-10 feet long, 416 average pounds, capable of 50 miles an hour in short distances and a roar that can be heard 5 miles away) in a pit on a snowy day. From the man represented in 1 Samuel to the warrior declared mighty and his feats proclaimed in 1 Chronicles and then Commander-in-chief of the whole of Israel’s armies in 1 Kings.

As Pastor Lane points out, Benaiah teaches us that we are not called to safety, avoidance of fear or even a 'comfortable' retirement in this life, as men. Our attempts at establishing a boring life of safety, avoiding our 'wilderness experiences' wrought with fear and seeking a life of simple comfort in the elder days of our lives are foolish to attempt and absent of God's enticement to join Him in the work He would have us do. The goal of masculinity, of all of God's children, is to be faithfulness Lane points out….encountering our lions (those situations that we'd like to avoid but need to be confronted). In a life pleasing to God, we must face the best of the Moabites (modern day representation….lusts of the flesh…), our giants (the worldliness of Egypt) and the lions (Lane quotes 1 Peter 5:8 "your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion"). How do we, as broken men who haven't had an example per se of godly masculinity, be a Benaiah?

We each have our Davids in our lives. We each have our 'three mightier men' that even our best cannot match. Men who have heard the yearning of their David's and sought out the simple desires in the face of overwhelming odds, showing a faithfulness to David and ultimately to the God he serves. Men who fight their battles with lions, giants and the fallenness of the world with the throbbing passion of faith…..Israel's God, David's God, their God….the True God…..is alive and victorious yesterday, today and tomorrow. Men who move in the face of overwhelming fear, certain defeat and looming death to walk in the purpose of God and perform the work to which He calls us all.

Though my exploits aren't even close to the mighty deeds performed by my 'three' and my spiritual leadership cannot even come to measure against my 'David', I stand counted by these men as one among them…..…the few who girth themselves in the armor of the Lord and step into the world to bring the truth and light to all who are stained in the darkness of their sins and the blindness of the enemy's grasp. Men, who recognize that the battle isn't of a physical nature but a spiritual one, and who move despite the fear to face the enemy. A band of brothers, who fight alongside each other, living a life unsafe, robbed of comfort's laziness and struggle fully in the light of day in faithfulness to be examples for themselves, each other and those they know in the darkness of night. For the wives to which they must live, the sons to which they must teach, and the daughters to which they must represent godly manhood in the ordained, created and designed model that God sets forth in the Word.

Men who don't claim superiority, but humility, in these efforts to live a godly design. Men who, like the mighty men of David's time, speak not of their exploits nor boast in their victories but simply move as God has called them to, without claiming the glory that is God's alone but with the intentionality of providing Him with the testimony of that Glory. Men who live what they believe, represent what they have faith in and empower the generations to come with the truth.

I know who my David is, who the 'three mightier than the mighty men' are, and even the second tier of heroes that walk in the landscape of this world…..and there are my brothers in arms who stand with me in the spiritual battles that men were built to fight; to bless those around them.

I will not fear, I will not run and I will not turn from the struggle to be an example to my children of the man God made me to be. Will you?

This morning, when I went to the website of the church, I was impressed with the ‘motto’ if you will of this distant part of the family of God (in physical distance that is)…..”Empowered through Christ, we will Serve, Save, Strengthen and Send” Serving the community, introducing saving faith to others, strengthen believers and sending loving people into the world to ‘repeat’….it is seldom that you see such an impactful statement in the churches of this western culture today and it would be interesting to see how effective they are being in faithful execution to their god-purposed mission. There are so few churches that are empowering the body with the good fruit of the Gospel that the masses are surrendering to the bondage of the enemy just to be able to eat unclean food. The Bedford FM church’s website is www.bedfordfmc.org . I’d recommend a look and a visit if you are in the area.

Greater are they who are with me than those who stand against me...

"And when the servant of the man of God was risen early, and gone forth, behold, an host compassed the city both with horses and chariots. And his servant said unto him, Alas, my master! how shall we do? And he answered, Fear not: for they that be with us are more than they that be with them. And Elisha prayed, and said, LORD, I pray thee, open his eyes, that he may see. And the LORD opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha." (2 Kings 6:15-17 KJV)

The journey this last few weeks has been an exciting time of hearing God entice me to go beyond where I've carved out a foxhole and actually enter into the 'dead man zone' to engage the enemy alongside Him. He's shown me that He's equipped me; the shield, sword, helmet, boots, and breastplate and endowed me with the spiritual conditioning to handle the chaotic and fluid environment of the battlefield. He's there, having called me to engage in life at its messiest for the sake of His glory. Stepping out of that foxhole Saturday was full of the expectation I'd be bowled over by the proverbial bullet....................

But the field of battle is still raging around me as I look to God and wipe the sweat from my brow, grateful that He is indeed alongside me......as He said He would be.......

Monday it was about the love the Father has for me, the beloved son and the man he was meant to become. That song, "To Make You Feel My Love" by Garth Brooks, a secular song used to convey a greater sense of God's love for me....over and over again on the hour trip home.......

Tuesday it was about endurance, living for Him even in the brokenness and stress of this world. The song, "I Just Can't Give Up" by MaryMary, encouraging me to travel up that next mountain, with the vision of Christ standing on the other side, His arms ready to catch me and provide me nourishment for the next mountain, that next valley.

I played softball with the church league that night.....we came from behind to within two of the winning team's score...and the coach was encouraging us that we're getting better, working as a team. As my son and I travelled back home, God used that example to again reinforce His invitation to join Him where He is working around me for the glory of the Kingdom. "You're getting better, you're starting to work with Me. I'm so proud of you!"

Wednesday, on the way home from work God kept bringing the event from the second book of Kings with Elisha and his servant to my mind, saying...."Do you want your eyes opened so that you can see the provision I have made for you?" I had woke up Wednesday morning much like that servant...running around (in my mind) and recalling all the things I had to worry about; the finances, the vehicle, the family and the relationships in my life.

God stopped me with that image of the host surrounding the prophet, who could see them, and the servant who (until Eisha prayed for sight) could not. Would I be the servant who was panicing or the prophet who saw clearly the provisions made in the reality of the enemy's approach? I asked for sight and spent the rest of the trip home content....singing at the top of my voice the praises of my King.....hey, I was alone in my own vehicle...though I'm sure many of the other drivers questioned my sanity....

My son, upon my arrival home, ran up to the mailbox and grabbed the mail. In typical fashion, he divided the mail as he's seen me do so many times and said, "Here, Dad, these are for you."

One was a small letter envelope and the other a full-sized yellow padded envelope, both from brothers in the ministry I am a member, as well as a participant, in..... I looked at my son and said, "Let us see God's provision for us. If it's a letter of support and edification...that will carry us through. If it's another provision, then we are doubly blessed." I opened the smaller, from the brother I spoke with on Monday for a time about everything happening. The check would cover some of the deficit and I looked to my son and said, "God has provided for us, bubba. We are truly blessed." I felt contentment, for if this was truly the provision made then surely the remainder would be worked out in His plan also.

My son, who always wants to know the interesting things his dad gets in the mail, asked me what the other envelope, from one of my mentors in the ministry was. I told him I didn't know, but whatever it was would be of benefit for us whether it was a simple letter or a magazine/article/book that would bring us closer to God and help us weather the storm. I opened it up and reached inside, pulling out a couple of denomination bills. Blessed again, I thought, as I dropped it back in and gathered my things to head inside the house to feed both of us before the bible study that night at church.

With the way things were, I figured we'd best make a quick run up to the bank to deposit the check and whatever else had come in. I went into the living room and flipped the envelope over....a pile of twenties fell out on the end table. I was stunned. As I finished counting the bills, tears flowed down my face...my God indeed had answered all the needs....

We went out and got the car alignment done and the money deposited in the bank. The rent is covered, the necessary repairs to the car, covered. And I can regain that confidence that I move into a purpose that God has set aside for me and calls me too. Again, as He is able God called me to join Him in the work He is doing around me, trusting in Him to provide and to give me strength to continue.

It is not an army of Heavenly Host gathered around me in strong numbers, it is my brothers.....who call me to be what God has shaped me to be.....and will not leave a man behind.

And they that be with me are greater than those that stand against me.

"For our God is an awesome God. He reigns from Heaven above, with wisdom power and love....OUR GOD IS AN AWESOME GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The weapon of the testimony....

“Then all nations will call you blessed, for yours will be a delightful land,” says the LORD Almighty." Malachi 3:12

They say that the greatest tool that God has placed in our hands for the sake of the mission is not doctrinal memorization, not weekly or even twice-weekly Church fellowship, nor even an effective argument. They say it is our testimony, that story that comprises our life and is composed of everything we've experienced and everything we have learned. The greatest of these powerful weapons in the armory of the Army of the Lord are not spoken, rattling off the specifications and expectations like some Special Forces expert but in the simplest of expressions....living it. Being a living testimony. Being able to silently point into the recesses of your heart and show the Holy Spirit there.

When you are exposed to the undeniable testimony of a true child of God, it may never look pretty. Trials, tribulation and suffering crop up into everyone's life; successes seem as illusionary as the 'American dream', and the struggles that they still face seem so simple in your eyes but so harsh and unending in their's. They fall, get up, fall and get up in a never-ending cycle.

But if you listen, you see a strength that defies the depressing cycle of failure. If you watch the evolution of the story, you see life exists (however ugly, however plain) in places where it shouldn't exist --- where they shouldn't even be alive standing before you, because in that darkness they speak of you know you would've fallen and become a cherished memory in the hearts of loved ones.

Just because you can see it doesn't mean that they can. They have walked through the valley of the Shadow of Death and fear no evil, because it is their companion and intimate lover. They know that God doesn't give them anything that they cannot handle, but look less to what they have gained through victory in Christ and more at the simple, continual, and (to them) epic failures that cascade like an never-ending stream in their lives.

The exposure of sunlight upon the broken depravity of their humanity is endured, they are restless and unfocused and consider themselves totally unworthy, totally a failure in the journey towards home. They long for the maturity that they see in others, even as those others express amazement at the maturity in them. The walk in the valley has left its mark, even as the heart beats with a hope that defies the mind's logic of its hopelessness.

Their testimony is the most valuable, however, because it isn't contrived or rehearsed. It changes with the fluidity of the ocean tides, meeting the unspoken answers of the seeker, the unsaved, and the denier that come into their sphere of life and hear their profession of faith; strained, tried and simplistic.

Undeniable.

Speaking from experience, writing my journey as a testimony written by the words of my broken, depraved and burdened heart, isn't set forth upon the ethereal pages of the Internet as a condemnation of what a 'true' Christian is but a profession of the utter foolishness of alteration, the foolhardy method of addition, and the empty application of biblical formulas to life and the professed life gained through the 'conversion' of our nature from old to new through the allegiance and oath of loyalty to Christ Jesus, Messiah and King, Lord and Savior. Faith is more than a matter of profession and belief is not as complete as one would claim.

As S. Michael Craven said in his book, Uncompromised Faith, being a follower is more than just Sunday services and Christianized language, theories, and expressions. It is that living in a broken world, broken, and finding yourself more and more distant in the logicality of love from God than you can ever hope to cover in the briefness of life. But desiring to try and making desire action, despite the assurance of failure and incomplete, unfulfilled attainment. It is, in the absence of all reasoning and all reasonable thought, stepping into the throne room of the King with the assurance of death for the interruption and being extended the scepter of grace, saved from the punishment that is the due.

Time and time again.

And it never gets any easier. It never gets any simpler.

For the first time since I was invited to be a part of the dynamic and powerful group of realistic men who God called through the voice of Scott Engelmann to join together as a band of brothers to be men of God's heart and mission workers for the field, I didn't go to the meeting. Reasonable excuse was existent and easily offered. But the reason I hadn't missed a meeting before was purely survival instinct....if I didn't go, I knew I'd probably never go back.

My belief in my worth was broken a long time ago upon the altar of this world and as I have journeyed through the destruction of the hillside and traveled down into the darkest valleys, I have gone...as a ghost.....substance an illusionary wisp faintly discoloring the landscape, belief the perception of movement out of the corner of the eye, and faith more of a dripping faucet than a flowing stream. Realistically feeling I am far beyond the saving and changing grace of God, and hoping as I crawl before the throne, eyes downcast and limbs heavy, beyond the hope of that hope that He is the gracious, merciful, and righteous God that I have understood in the bible and seen in the faces of the truly redeemed; those giants who walk among us convinced they are simple Lilliputs instead of Gilligans.

Whereas the events of my life would surely be nothing but a fly smashed into the broad windshield of their lives, I find these things of tidal and epic failure. I don't recall off-hand who said it, but one of the greatest truths I have found in the lessons of this life is, "Preach the Gospel, use words if you have to." We shouldn't have to, its existence and proof a living breathing hope in the face of hopelessness, belief in the logic of human righteousness of unbelief, and the faith to face Goliath with a sling and stone. Living under the mighty hand of God may not feel like a safe place, or even a place that others will be drawn to in the hail of worldly gratification, but it is the only place where hope for the hopeless cannot be denied even by their own lips.

Then the glory of God is revealed to those brought to its revealing. And the illusionary safety of human understanding of godly wisdom falls away to reveal the hand that will never leave its place on your shoulders…..even as your humanity crumbles under the weight of realized corruption and absolute depravity.
I don't know if the door opens into another desert or wilderness expanse or if, as the sustaining hope that exists testifies to, that I will find success in the surrender and victory in the defeat.

The greatest thing I fear is the greatest thing I face and the denial of the experience of relationship's painful experiences and wounding endings is hard to deny. Yet, in the purpose of the calling God brings me to face that fear, without assurance of victory and the absence of sustained peace.

I am an ordained chaplain now, the church illusion of safety in numbers (large numbers) under a corporate business mentality of 'saving souls' no longer sustainable in my eyes, and the sight of those I cannot deny their discernment and wisdom a view of a leader and minister to the broken…..He calls me to serve Him.
I am afraid.

I know the darkness too well to disregard its danger. But I can hear the voices crying out and I cannot stay….. I am afraid, of staying and of going……
Lord help my unbelief…

Deep sea fisherman.....

"So do not fear for I am with you, do not be dismayed because I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous hand." Isaiah 41:10

Standing at the helm of this storm-tossed ship, watching the biggest wave ever formed begin to crest, I have gone from the fearful state where my humanity begs for air to scream and stand tense....waiting for that moment, that signal, that signifies the beginning of the end: the end of waiting, the end of any effort that my broken, sinful humanity could possibly bring to bear, that time -- waited for since the dawn of my creation and the first cry of a newborn male child. This, I can feel with every fiber of my being, is what I am purposed for.

The wave, massive in its height and scale, blots out the horizon....blots out all hope of escape. There simply is nowhere to run, no rescue to come in time, there is no one on the deck......this is my time. This has been a long time in coming, the culmination of lost loves, love wrongly loved, relationships broken by circumstances, time, and my own hand. In the mirror like glassy surface of the massive wave, I see the heartaches, the sin, the sorrows, the suffering, and the brokenness of my heart boiling under its turning and chaotic surface.

When the Master of the ocean meets you in such a dramatic and undeniable way, despite the attachments each deep-sea sailor has to the land of his birth, everything becomes irrevant and pointless.

No son who has borne more than his share of sorrow, no daughter who bears so much brokenness and suffering in similiar fashion to your own (the makings of a deep-sea fisher herself), no friend who means more to you than you could ever say or ever show, and no one to bear you up under the approaching crush of the Perfect storm. When you are a deep sea fisherman, you challenge the Master of the Deep each and every day. Sometimes the harvest of the fish are plentiful, still wrought with danger but danger of the level you're prepared for.

Sometimes it takes longer to gather enough to pack the holds, to make the journey upon the miles of deep, dark ocean worthwhile and you face unexpected dangers...but find yourself up to the challenge and coming out on the other side with holds full and a song to sing.

But, as every seasoned salt will tell those willing pups who sit to listen, you challenge the Mighty enough and you will come face to face with the darkness of your soul and tremble at the display of mighty sovereignty of the Ruler of the Deep. Its as certain as the need to cast the mooring lines off to move out to sea or as certain as the dawn of a new day. He will hear your challenge and He will answer; in ways you cannot prepare for and cannot predict.

And when He does, after you've done all you can; battened down hatches as tight as they can be, casting off the dead weight of equipment no longer effective, and jury-rigging the damage of the precursor gales that have buffeted your too small vessel in preparation for this spectacular finale; there is nothing left to do but face the Creator of the storm and be humbled.

In that moment between waiting and beginning, between inspiration and dread; you look back upon the path that has brought you out, far from land's embrace and protection, and see the moments of your life that have been in response to that deep sea call; leaving those who prefer the relatively safety of the inland waters, dunking their poles into the waters and pulling out smaller fish, though huge by their experience, compared to the ones you have seen in your travels to the deep. You smile at the memory of the honest, heart-felt impressions made by those who dared to cast their poles in a new and strange fashion and who yeild a bountiful harvest from the inland shores until the fish themselves learned the tricks and began to ignore the lure of the overused technique.

Mighty fishermen were they in the little puddles of water, easily impressing those who gathered upon the shore to watch such overskilled techniques in a shallow and limited environment. Even then, you felt the lure of the open ocean and the siren call of the deep. Little ponds filled with stagnant water, unmoved by the current running deep under the surface and unchallenging in the fish swimming beneath its waves.

You remember the adventure in its infancy; catching a ride upon another's vessel...the greenhorn amid giants scarred and bruised by the life of a deep sea fisherman. You remember gathered for evening meals as the waves gently tossed themselves against the hull, listening to tales both horrifying and inspiring from those veterans --- and smile as you remember that one who drew you aside one day and told you to listen with purpose, garnering what uses you could from the tales told, and that day you were included in the group....no longer a greenhorn but looked upon as one of the few; a deep-sea fisherman.

You recall the joys of a life such as this; the massive sized fish, the likes no inlander would ever see and have never believed existed. The dawning of a new day upon the crystal waters of the deep, that sucks the sunlight in like a favored drink, disappearing into the darkness of its heart and sending the glowing sparkle back through the water to be almost painful to watch directly such splendor. The open sky above, the untarnished line of the horizon, and the fading memory of a land that bound your heart and soul in its embrace.

The sorrows too. Shipmates taken by tragic accidents; a hook catching them and dragging them into the crushing depth of the deep, foolish mistakes made upon the dangerous deck of a deep fisher, and those too precious few who journeyed back with you with holds full and rewards bountiful only to be felled upon the land they detested, a deep sear is never at home on the land, by some unknown disease or the dreaded "c" of cancer. Very few, in your replayed memories, so very few simply went to sleep in the night and never came back to the land of the living to venture forth with you again into the deep.

But even then, with the passing of remembered sorrows and suffering, even then your face cracks into a smile as you recall the intoxicating thrum of the engines as the Boat Master pushed the throttles full forward, the turning sound of the water churning against the hull as it slices through the surface, the ship's nose pulled out a bit as if she were smelling out the fish that were to be hauled in, as if she were looking for her bearings so that the 'right spot' could be found.

The dolphins that welcome you into the open waters, the gulls that squawk their cheers to your ears as you return to what you are, to what you were meant to be: a deep sea fisherman.....one of the few, some say, foolhearty who cast their lots out upon the deep....

You remember the early days of learning the trade; working the decks, making what sometimes were easily rectified mistakes and sometimes were life-threating errors but surviving the struggles and the long hours and the full or empty nets and cages....that fade into the memories of a seasoned hand, the work coming almost effortlessly as you watched that greenhorn who came aboard much like you were once, frightened of their own shadow and overwhelmed with the work to be done.....some returned and grew into cherished shipmates; others rejected the foolheartiness of the open water in favor of shallow depths embraced by assured landbased rescue.

The weight of the steering beneath your hand, even now you can remember the sweaty palms and parched throat as you took the helm for the first time and worked the boat as you once worked the equipment on the deck; learning a new skill you never dreamed you'd be able to master but dared to dream of. Ah, the pleasure of being a deep sea captain.....even with the added responsibility of crew and equipment and navigating to those fruitful waters....there is nothing in your experience that compared to commanding the helm of such a vessel.

As the wave crests and begins to suck your ship into it darkening depth, raising the bow towards the vertical and your limbs respond with remembered lessons taught upon these very waters; the pushing of the throttles wide open and the thrumming response from the engines below, the tightening of your grip upon the wheel....you remember those who came before you; some generations of salted deep seaers....

from infancy to their watery graves growing up in the comfort and traditions of Glouster families, some who's blood ran salty and others whose pride of their heritage spelled their own doom.

Others, like yourself, landlubbers whose blood was transfused by the taste and adventure; the walking wounded, the scars of a old life unlearned and a new life lessoned by the harshness and unforgiving origins of your birth. But all, deep seaers, Glouster fishermen each and every one.....

As you reach the almost vertical point, where ship will either fall back, collasping upon itself as the water claims each and every open orifice and the deep claims its reward; you feel the remembered weight of hands upon your own, guiding but never forcing, as they ease the throttles a bit, turn the wheel slightly, as the dance between nature and man comes to its conclusion. You stand in the embrace of the Master of the Deep, who respects no man....sinner or saint, landlubber or deep salt....all come to this point upon the vessel they captain. And you know, as the vessel tips, that you will never be the same.......

As your eyes accept the darkness, either for eternity's momentary instance or until the storm has passed and sunlight once again graces the sky....you hear the words that awoke in your heart so long ago the desire of the deep.....

"Come follow Me and I will make you a fisher of men."

You know; whether your name becomes inscribed upon the walls of the momument to those who have passed before you as a moot testimony to the history of the sea...or whether those equally as foolhearty, brave souls of the rescuers pluck you from the sea's embrace once again, you have answered that call placed upon your heart and throbbing in your veins for so long.....

"And he said to them all, If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me." Luke 9:23

Dr. David Livingstone, a missionary, was working in Africa when some friends wrote to him about their desire to send him help. "We would like to send other men to you. Have you found a good road into your area yet?"

It is Dr. Livingstone's reply that I would challenge each of you who sit in the fancy bass fishing boats on inland waters, or even those of you who fish like deep seaers in shallow waters, and even those who watch from the shoreline.

Dr. Livingstone said, "If you have men who will only come if they know there is a good road, I don't want them. I want men who will come if there is no road at all."
You will never realize the passion of the faith, the joy amid the sorrow of the belief, nor the peace in the midst of the storm of the Maker's hand until you cast your line out into the deep and let the Lord of it all pull you in.

You will never realize the glory and majesty of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob until you challenge the deep where He lives......make a road where none exist, travel to the deep that few have experienced.

Dare to risk it all, throwing everything to the wind........

Be a deep sea fisherman....

and find that in giving it all, you gain so much more than you could ever imagine.

The Master of the Deep is calling.........

The perfect storm

You journey through life; its relatively good…..the love of a woman, the respect of your children, security in your profession, and opportunities abundant to serve God. Life happens; loved ones fade into the eternal reward of heaven or hell, regardless of how much you may still need them here or fight to hold them close, children turn from the biblical truths no matter how well you instruct them, train them, and empower them to walk in the paths of the LORD, relationships burdened by life end before they can truly be born, and we do the 'right thing' in balancing and maintaining our budgets and the car blows up, the house catches fire, and our work is gone in the blink of an eye. Relatively, in the prospect of the eternal, life is a good thing regardless. What is of this world will die with this world, and all that we know is eternal will be eternal. We are but pilgrims on a journey to our homeland upon the dirt of this world.

For most people life's routine is flowing along at the even keel, with brief squalls to ripple the surface of their ponds, but nothing more. They are born, grow up relatively peaceful, marry that person who has been their vision of a mate for life, have children, known for being upstanding citizens and religious folk, and then pass on to their rewards having left a legacy of continuousness in their passing. For others, there is a brief time of a tropical storm and its ferocity damages the temporary things within their lives, shaking the foundations of their eternal but sank far into the bedrock…their lives withstand the height of the storm and in a brief time, it passes into the memories of epic tales told to their grandchildren.

For a few, life's routine is nothing more than the collision of the "perfect storm", that combination of conditions, circumstances, and tribulations that come together to create the perfect hurricane upon the open sea, far from the sight of land and hope of rescue. For some, there has never been the moment of knowing a mother's unconditioned love or a father's pride in them. For some, life isn't as simple as going to a well-paying and intellectually challenging job and maintaining the trinkets that such allows; a nicely-appointed home, nice vehicles, and a loving family but rather a struggle against the impending wave that threatens to claim all they love and care for with the uncaring movement of compelled force. For some, peace is more defined because it is a temporary evacuation of water from around them being gathered by the wave building on the horizon.

These few continue to batten down the hatches with well-practiced ease, without wasted motion and wasted emotion. Oh, the weight of the building wave is shadowing their every step and their faces are grimed by the all-too-realistic outlook of annihilation that looms bigger and bigger on the fading horizon. They know that no matter how well they've battened things down and how well they respond to the fervor of the wave's power, there will be less upon the return of the sunlight….if sunlight is what they will see again.

They have wept themselves to the point of exhaustion, beyond the feverous attempt of their humanity to rationalize a dim glimmer of possible hope, and they have done what they could do in the time given to push their fragile craft beyond the grasp of the mother wave. Far from land, further from the hope of human rescue, they prepare for the aftermath of the approaching doom. For these few, the storm has never ended in the journey.

And, in this culmination of the 'perfect storm' they may perish beneath the waves of this bruising, punishing world or cling in the aftermath of its destruction to the flotsam of what remains; the choice is no longer theirs to affect or to vocalize. They are at the mercies of the ocean deep. Life is dealing the cards.

Christianity is facing its 'perfect storm', that combination of humanism (label it postmodern, emergent, universalism, liberalism whatever -ism you wish), moralistic decadence, and cultural isolationism that has come together to feed each other to develop the rogue wave of worldly destruction. As the wave gathers its might, growing in height and strength despite the fierce resistance of the vessel and crew, the world grows darker and the outcome seems assured. The years of 'individual' Christianity and personalized faith have met with the forces of humanism, post-modernism, consumerism and emerging church movements to bring to focus the power given to the Enemy in the end of times. No longer is Truth decisive and absolute, but must make way for cultural changes and economic desires. Churches call for 'economic and spiritual' revival, Christian radio stations promote 'economic' spirituality and isolation and Christians don't even know what they believe as more and more human definition contorts and misshapes simple Truths issued from God in His Word.

The Enemy floats in the most modern, technologically-advanced steel ships made by human hands with human intellect. Solely focused on delivering a human solution to human sin and explaining away the powerfulness of God.

The SS Christianity, a seasoned veteran of the world and its storms, is made of wood and pitch. The engines and a few navigational aids are the only handshake with modern times and human engineering. She is battered, patched, creaking and leaking from the numerous 'tropical storms' that have plagued its passage upon the open waters with equipment lost overboard and never replaced, cobbled tools made from broken remains, and only seaworthy because of the exhaustive efforts of her serving crew. She is far from her homeport where her family awaits her return and far beyond the rescue of the human leadership that has been slowly fading into the eternal of their reward over the decades; some 'victims' if you will of the storms past and others who have faded into the silence of 'retirement', wizened and aged, haunting only the sending off and homecoming of their old ship.

The crew has been whittled down; some have come upon the deep for a season, weathered a storm and recoiled to the calmness of the inland waters, where the depth is measured in the matter of feet rather than miles and the closeness of shore almost guarantees rescue's salvation to deliver them from accidents and freak weather than to be at the mercies of the unseen and unpredictable Master of the Ocean.

Some have spent a fair amount of time upon the open waters, been battered and bruised by the storms of epic tales and widowing nightmares. They have ventured into the depths of the unseen, grabbed their fortunes and made their riches and having horded the empirical wealth of a dangerous life lived, they spend what they gathered in the quiet comfort of home. These veterans sit at the local pubs of the homeport, their faces wizened by the harsh open wind and fiery burning sun that has shaped the measure of their days. They shake their heads in admiration, mixed with a bit of 'heart-felt' gladness, at the foolishness of the 'young' to venture back upon the waves of such a fierce Master.

The remaining crew, a collection of inexperienced 'greenhorns' and seasoned veterans, man the creaking decks littered with debris of endless hours worked pulling the precious cargo of lost souls from the tight grip of the enemy and fighting the storm's gathering fury. They are tired and bruised, wounded by the continuous effort to keep the vessel and crew alive, and the veterans sound out the warning, prepare the ailing ship and her 'greenhorns' as best they can, and turn to watch with a healthy fear…as the wave approaches.

Some greenhorns weep at the life that may be ending here upon the bitter ocean, others question the ideals that drew them to such a dangerous profession; promised wealth untold for a moment's work. The wise ones look to the veterans, drawing comfort from the battered collection of scarred humanity that stand firm at the railings, gather in the wheelhouse with one hand on the steering and one on the engine controls….ready to bring their full measure of seamanship to bear as hell unleashes its fury.

And, as the crest of the gathering force of the storm of -isms/decadence/isolationism is reached; in a world that grows increasingly reliant upon the godhood of its own design, where children carry guns into school to show the world in the moment of their despair that they will matter and the cries of unborn children haunt the dreams of misguided mothers, where the immorality of a few confuse the majority of the borderline and the redefined truth of the moment drowns out the eternal Truth, where true beauty within stands in the physical creation of the Maker's hand and is rejected by the ugliness of mankind's sinfulness, where the angels weep and the whole of creation shakes at the foolishness of mankind's created gods; globalization, global warming, economic prosperity, universal religion, intolerance of absolutes………

Each of the weary crew have their own personal stories of the fight against this storm; gathering now for years. They bear the scars of their own journeys upon the face of the deep; some bear in stark sight the brutality of man's folly. Some have known love only to have it leave them without its embrace, some have seen the blessings of children taken by the evilness of another and too many bear the common wound of an absent father and an even more absent community of faith.

There are those, who can find safer harbors to weather this storm, who fly out into its tempest with the honor of brother- and sisterhood to rescue this battered crew. In the face of overwhelming odds, they set their shoulders and their sights on finding these redeemed souls out in the deep. They go lightly equipped, with only enough protection to help them reach the hearts battered by the tempest. Though separated by distance and time, they face the fury of this "storm" with equal worry, but with a determination to be a deciding force in the crew's endeavor to stay alive. The mission supersedes everything else.

In the end, the brutal wave unleashes its fury and the crew grins…………..

leaning into its mighty grasp with hands working steering and engines in harmony and purpose, as the good ship climbs the mountain of man's folly.

For this may be just another 'storm of the century' or the final glory but the ship and crew know its purpose and will struggle against the approaching destruction with all of their faith, all of their belief, and all of their hope, as if this is a simple squall and not the end of their journey.

Hoping for the end because of the battles already fought, but willing to jump into the fray once again for another season. Because in the face of this greatest attempt to confuse and confound the children of the Most High God, their victory is assured and their reward is promised. The storm has already been defeated, the rescue already performed.

And in the aftermath of this storm, if indeed it is only a 'century's fury' and not the final end; where the world grudgingly erect monuments to the valiant ship and her crew, shaking their heads at the foolishness of dreamers who believe in facing the storm's fury lightly equipped, and epithets are given with reluctant honor to the 'good intentions' of such honorable sailors, the ship and crew will go on to its eternal reward.

For, when the 'perfect storm' of man's sinfulness and rebellion does come together upon the broken surface of a chaotic creation who groans in pain at the foolishness of man's intellectual and inspirational attempts to deny its creator, the Admiral of the Fleet will gather His veteran crew and sail His seaworthy ship into the fury for the victory over the true "Perfect Storm."

In the perfect storm of my life; love realized, spoiled by the circumstances of life itself, the purposed vision seemingly a dream, and the attempt upon attempt to overcome some of the common struggles I face….ship battered and beaten by the merciless sea…..in that moment, as I gaze upon the cresting wave so massive and dark it blots out the sky, and all possiblity of human hope dies in the sheer sight of its rolling power of destruction…….I have to smile.

Maybe this is the one, that final battle upon the face of this world and I can rest, until that day comes when my Master calls me to join the return and man my station aboard His vessel. Maybe not. Maybe this is just the enemy's lastest and greatest that is nothing more than a 'storm of the century'.

Hope remains. I have face the impossibility of my own abilities to move this wave and know that in the end of it all, I may become a name on the wall of the departed.....

It's time to step aside and let God...........

I grin and push the throttle……………….as do countless others on their own vessels of God's design


This is going to be one heck of a ride…………………………………...

A song rises in my soul…………………

"Father God, we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea"

The 12th year......

"My son, let them not vanish from your sight; Keep sound wisdom and discretion......Do not let them depart from your sight; Keep them in the midst of your heart." (Proverbs 3:21; 4:21 NASB)

Twelve years ago, after a frantic and hurried race across town (as opposed to driving in the opposite direction to the closer hospital ---I plead temporary insanity) and the doctor telling me that the planceta was separating from the uterus wall and the baby was in trouble.....at 10:06 am, by emergency c-section, Casey Lawrence Hutson entered into this world and took what too many unfortunate children are unable to do in today's society...a breath.

I was told that I couldn't be in the operating room, due to the emergency, and was on the phone with my sister when the nurse came up and told me that he had come into the world, in a fashion that would be a characteristic he has grafted into his personality, in spectacular fashion at 6lbs, 11 ounces and 16 inches long.....at what the doc said was the 'edge of viability'.

I can remember looking at him in the incubator, waiting transport to the hospital I should've headed to (again....I plead temporary panic), I promised him everything I had, would have, and could get for him. My life ended that day as I gazed down at this bundle of crying, full head of hair baby boy and I promised to make his life so much fuller than mine ever was; not knowing that he would bring something beyond what I could ever give back to him.....

I can remember for the first month of his born life; getting up at 3am and on the road by 3:30, at the hospital's NICU by 4:00am (dressed and gowned) to spend an hour with him. I can remember the sadness of looking at the children who were smaller than my palm as I turned to sit down at the incubator of the biggest premie in the room and counting silently those who didn't make the journey long in this world who's incubators were empty.....

I can remember taking him home with a apnea monitor, running back and forth to the docs when the darn thing went off at all hours, the recommendation for physical therapy and premie 'assistance' so that he could 'catch up' and helping him walk....a tiny hand gripped tightly around my pinky finger, which was being pulled from its socket as he gathered steam.....the diagnosis that he was cognitively-impaired....the rejection of a speech theraptist who said he was too 'stupid' to learn to speak and my reply, issued in a low growl "You aren't good enough to teach my son."

The rushing home after recieving a call he was at the hospital because he was outside and fell, right into the trailer hitch, and again when I was told that he was left in a car by his grandpa and did what anybody else would do, put the car into drive and knock a mobile home off it's foundations....becoming the only kid in the country with an accident on his record before he could even drive.....(not really).

The struggles with school, the struggles with my ex regarding his care, and the best day of my life since his birth and the following birth of his sister.......the day when custody of both of them were given to me. And the reason that I walked back into the church and realized God's call.....for him and his sister......

We have had our share of struggles; self-imposed, imposed by others, and dealing with life as life comes. We have had our own sorrows, hurts we have caused each other intentionally and unintentionally.....life is not the image I held when I gazed down at that boy so long ago.

Easter Sunday, 3 years ago, he joined the family of God.....and the adventures God has taken us on since then have been harrowing, scary, and blessed.......

No one will ever say that he is anything but a joy to be near, loving and caring of those around him and always faithful. He has endured so much, been ridiculed and mistreated because of his special need as much as he has been blessed with gifted teachers, caring teachers, and exceptional friends.

As I look back over the last twelve years, I am amazed that --with all the mistakes I've made, the consequences of decisions made by me and by others, and the passing of life in a broken world--- a twelve year old young man walked into the ktichen today, looked up at me with those beautiful and caring eyes and wrapped his arms around (as much as he could) my waist....and said, "Do you know what today is?"

I wish I could say that I said something profound and scholarly about the angels singing and heaven rejoicing....but no.....I said, "Frankfurter day at school?" In a look that has become part of his impressive facial library, he said...."Nooooooo...." I relented and wrapped him in my arms.....and spoke the words of my heart.....

"Today, you become a young man.....and continue to be a blessing to this old man."

To the community of Godly men that stand in pursuit of the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords, I present to you someone who is transitioning from boyhood to young manhood, from childish things to adventures and battles and glory for his Lord and King......

As a father, I ask that you..this community of godly men...take this new man into that community and take him into the next phrase of this journey home. Each of us men are uniquely gifted to mentor the new men growing into fatherhood, to teach godly principles through fresh and different eyes...I ask that you step up to the task and show him true godly masculinity, reinforced by the multitude that you are.

As a man, I am proud of who he is becoming even as my arms strain against letting go and my heart longs for the simplier times of cradling him in my arms. But, I know that God has taken my dedicating this young man at my word and calls him out into the purpose to which God set aside before he even graced me with a smile as I was told his mother was pregnant.

The greatest thing that I have ever heard from this young man's mouth still send the shiver of wonder and joy down my spine when I hear it......"Dad, I love you."

The greatest thing that I can ever say to you as I present the newest member of the community of manhood.............

"Gentlemen, here is MY son, with whom I am well pleased!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I give you a blessing from God, community of men, and I give you a treasure of my heart. I hope that, if you have a chance to have an godly impact upon this young man's life or to cross his path in the journey home, that you will see what a wonderful man he is becoming....and will impact him as a man in the community of godly masculinity can do.....

Stormy weather....

Life happens, I wrote in the blog on Monday.

Life; broken and bruised, battered and bleeding, happens throughout the world each day. Victories won, battles surrendered, lives changed in the blink of an eye and circumstances come to beat down even the most powerful people. In an instant, life happens. In the tempest of the storms, Christ calls us out like He did Peter…..one simple, direct word: “Come.”

Too few of us will give up that immediate and illusionary safety of the boat and the companionship that surrounds us. Yet Christ stands upon the waves so high that it surely seems He should drown. He holds out His hand and simply says, “Come.” Yet, we who have surrendered our lives to Him in dying to ourselves and our own foolishness react much like the other eleven disciples did…..”It’s a ghost!” and continue to battle the wind, the sea, and the tempest deep.

Just as Jesus commanded the twelve to get into the boat and cross the sea, sometimes the events of our lives are nothing more than the result of our actions, sinful and immoral, that are an accounting; Our Father God bring about that which we desired so much to do that we strayed from His path…..and He, ever faithful, calls us back. It is that moment; between the realization of sin and the calling of our God to repent and return that we find our boat moment.

Like Peter, is our desire to be living examples of Christ and to do His will enough? Peter knew that what Christ commanded He was also empowered to do. William Carey once said, “Expect great things of God, and attempt to do great things for God.” Despite what I am sure was opposition from the others in the boat, Peter denied what his mortal body told him and stepped into the tempest.

And walked on water, defying the very laws of physics that bound his physical body by the application of his faith.

So, you’ve stepped out into the raging seas….walking confidently those first few steps with confidence and faith…..a surreal moment bound by the eerie silence and heaviness of faith…….

And then Chaos exerts control and you feel the sway of the tide, the wetness of the waves and the howling of the wind. You hear, as Peter did, the boisterousness of the wind. It seems louder than God’s voice and far, far more desiring of you attention than Christ.

“Unbelief puts our circumstances between us and God.” F.B. Meyer remarked, “But faith puts God between us and our circumstances.”

Faith cannot be called faith unless it is followed by action, obedient action, in the worst of storms and raging circumstances. A faith untested is a useless thing, for anyone can say, “Lord, Lord” and yet walk a life that brings devastation and chaos to all they come into contact with. Few can walk the path that Jesus laid out, and none can walk it as Christ did.

Our storms cause us to wonder and fear stands before our faith.

We, like Peter, take our eyes off Christ and begin to sink…………………..

Life happened yesterday. Like a nuclear explosion. Like a runaway train. Like the betrayal of a wife who seeks the arms of another. Like the husband who hides his heart from those who need his unconditional love. Like the Body of Christ who stand in judgment and issue the decree of reasoning for another’s struggle.

Life sank, and God stood there upon the waves of fury and despair…...

I don’t know how long it took Peter before he cried out for Christ’s help. Maybe he looked around, and tried to turn back towards the boat. Maybe he sank as far as his chin before he cried out to Christ for help.

I know that when the life-altering, exploding and damaging wind of this life’s happening hit the walls of my faith, I shuddered……and felt the pain of its impact. And I lost sight for a moment of that figure on top of the waters of this violent and troubled world.

Sinking isn’t a pleasant feeling…..especially when you’ve been at the bottom before and knows of its despair and hopelessness.

And God said, “Why, with what I have brought you through, do you doubt My authority and My power? My grace. My mercy. Above all, my son, why do you know doubt My strength?”

He’s trained me to carry a lot more as a testimony of His power and this new burden is but a fly upon the cross I carry for my God…….

Lesson learned……God has shown up and is…..


calling me out of the boat to walk on the water……

Generation LOST

"Under three things the earth trembles, under four it cannot bear up: a servant who becomes king, a fool who is full of food, an unloved woman who is married, and a maidservant who displaces her mistress." Proverbs 30:21-23 (NIV)

Last night, at the Awanas ministry that I am now participating, I gave the 'lesson'.

It has been a point of worry with me that such ministries in the Church of today are nothing more than a reflection of society's "no-compete or accountability' mentality and that has created within the Body of Christ a disillusionment of the Truth in the young that transposes itself into disassociation with church in later years or the emergent postmodern view of "religiousity" so that such 'clubs' are nothing more than social groups that are too often divided and contrary to the original biblical purposes to which they were formed.

We make games to keep them entertained, bringing video platforms and pool tables....with a bit of biblical instruction and call it ministry.

They become nothing more than 'holding pens' in which those called to the ministry of the children are often frustrated and disillusioned from the lack of desire and respect that the children exhibit about their faith and their pursue of God. I believe this is why there is such a high 'turn-over' in children's ministry volunteers.

I, myself, am trying to stay away from the opinion of "simply marking time" (in a way) because of the 'viewpoint' of the leadership in regards to ministry as a whole.

It is not my calling to serve in the children's ministry, but I saw the need (there are only two men in the whole of the Awana's program at the campus) and stepped into it to meet such need. An year's commitment is one of the 'requirements' of a 'favorable' Church view on the desire and purpose of those who minister in the church or want church backing to new ideas. Those are the rules, otherwise I would have probably left the position my first day.

At least, I figure, I can try to impart the importance of bringing God into their Wednesday night activities rather than just rubber-stamp their progress through it.
The 'model' of churchy things has led to a wealth of those who are unfit and unprepared for the rigours of living by faith and the persecution that comes from the evil one and his minions as a Christian walks closer and closer in relationship with God.

We have created, with our desire to 'be all things to all people', weak and unhealthy spiritual people who have brought those weaknesses into the home and are passing them onto the next generation.

I speak not from accusation...but from experience. I struggle with my son to implement such disciplines in my own home, because of my own history. I do better than some but realize I am far than the model. Going back to the discussion about 'judging' that I wrote a few blogs back.....I judge myself accordingly too.
We have created the conditions of the field and now are reaping the corrupted harvest.

As the Jamieson-Fausset-Brown Bible Commentary says about this Proverb, "Pride and cruelty, the undue exaltation of those unfit to hold power, produce those vices which disquiet society."

If we do not learn in the years to which we are under the tuleage and instruction of those placed in authority above us, we will be a self-focused and self-serving people in our latter days. Much like what has happened in cultural and society, where the creed of the United States once was based on the 'consensus of the majority' has been corrupted into the 'minority view' of subjective righteousness and truth.

We act out of our wounded beginnings. And, rather than having cultivated a 'servant's heart', we learn of the 'protection of one's self'. When we are advanced into positions of power, our corrupted sense of 'religion' begets further corruption, to which society adjusts to accept as the 'norm'.

Our government is a large reflection of it. Our patriotism, now held to be separate from our faith, is the gaping wound of such sinfulness. The current definition of tolerance, in and of itself intolerant of one religion (Christianity), shows the progression from a people more interested in the edification and qualification of the young to a people who have declared the young to be lucky...that we allow them to breathe.

As I began the lesson, based on the instructions of Paul to his young charge Timothy, one of the more 'free-spirited' (read...uninterested) young persons in the group I belong to as a 'leader' was ignoring the common respect and courtesy one was once expected to give both the instructor and the fellow students. I called him upon it, reflecting that I was of the school where disruptive behavior such as he exhibited was dealt with in the form of 'corner watching'. "Nose to the wall, son" as my dad would say.

It wasn't his reaction that appalled me, it was one from the 'friendly and loved' leader, a young adult who is serving in the ministry group.

I upset her, which was given in evidence to the children around her with the rolling of the eyes and other body indications. The young man sat quietly, for a few moments, until he saw that and returned to his previous attitude, quietly. I knew I had lost one, before the lesson even began.

I had placed the verse I was teaching from on the board the previous Wednesday and asked the group to bring in a picture of someone they wanted to emulate or copy; be it professionally or personally. Only one child, out of twenty or thirty, copied the verse down and attempted to learn it. Even with the enticement of 'money' (reward points for the 'store' where they can 'purchase' prizes), only one came into Wednesday night's Awanas and tried to recite the verse.

Only one.

And only four brought a picture, two of them creatively making a collage of many clipped photos, of a person they wanted to emulate in a profession. Not a great ratio. Using the examples given, I reflected how our Christian journey isn't to gain eternal salvation but to walk in the confidence and assurance towards that destination already assured, in the training of ourselves into being copies of Christ.....emulation. That is what answers the internal question of "Why is Christ the answer?"

If we show those values we claim to follow in the biblical text to be nothing more than convienant and occassional to our own lives, it is reflected and amplified in our children's disinterest and disrespect of God, though many will claim to be followers of Christ.

Which leads me into the conviction I have, as do a growing number of men, that since Adam...men have been living unpurposed and undesigned lives. Society has amplified this disconnect by feminizing men, declaring their innate instincts to be undesireable, and not holding the men to a biblical and clear standard: just use of Godly designed power, working in conjunction with a woman's design to create life-giving, life-nuturing and ultimately God-purposing environments for the generations following.

Instead of telling a child that they can do whatever they wish, creating an non-competitive environment where their God-designed purpose and talent isn't shaped and molde to be forged into unbreakable faith, and teaching them that rote learning is better than indepth, wisdom-seeking understanding; we have created a generation who is unknowing of God, undesiring of His ways, and who are self-involved in this life that they have been taught they are lucky to be existing in.

We've put the emphasis on the physical well-being and neglected the spiritual well-being. Is it any wonder the children of the world are striking back?

We need to return to the right focus, as emulated and reflected in the life of our Savior Jesus Christ. "Not my will, Father, but Yours be done." "The words I speak are from the Father and not my own."

What was the verse, you ask, that sparked this?

"Rather, train yourself to live a godly life.Training the body helps a little, but godly living helps in every way. Godly living has the promise of life now and in the world to come." 1 Timothy 4:7b-8 (GWT)

A no-brainer, eh?

It's time to retrain ourselves so that we, through the power of the Spirit, may reclaim and redeem generations of unbiblical living and save the generation to come.

JMT

And GOD said LET THERE BE LIFE!!!!!!

"Be happy in your confidence, be patient in trouble, and pray continually.........Be happy with those who are happy. Be sad with those who are sad..........Don't pay people back with evil for the evil they do to you. Focus your thoughts on those things that are considered noble." Romans 12: 12, 15, 17 (GWT)

One of the most exciting things that I, as a Christian and a Chaplain, have experienced in the purpose to which God has called me is watching God walk into the wreckage of lives and bring restoration and healing. This is one thing, as I struggle against the old flesh of my humanity, that I cannot see evident in my own walk, to the degree I can see it in others, because I am 'too close to the tree to see the forest' kind of outlook. It is one of the blessings we have as God's children to see it and mention it to those in the 'thick' of it to edify and encourage them to continue.

But what a wonderous and joyful thing to watch another's struggles, though just beginning in earnest, bearing fruit for the testimony they will one day bear for the Kingdom. To discuss, without bitter words or angry accusations, the powerful and healing journey that has begun by one, and to edify their desire to follow through with hard earned experience from one's own testimony to encourage them along the way.

And, in the interest of being a blessing to someone else just as the blessings have been given, to reach out with compassion and offer them a real blessing that would ease their struggle in some areas.

The verses in Romans were the lifestay of this shared struggle that concludes for me in some ways and opens a vista of possibilities in other ones. But God's hand is upon whatever the future holds for both of us in this season of life. Directions have changed and what might have been becomes the hazy horizon glimpsed out of the corner of one's eyes.

But, above all things, to see one growing closer in their pursuit of our Father is a goal of heady triumph and prayerful supplication that has been ongoing for months.

And I watched how the 'nice guy' faded like the morning dew upon the grass in light of the intensity of the SON...........Despite the wounds that have been unconsciously given, hurt that was transformed into anger, and being plunged into the dark valley, God has shown me in this meeting with my brethren in Christ that what I struggled to be honorable about, i.e. praying in confidence not for vengeance but restoration, rejoicing with those who are rejoicing and spending the time in sorrow with those who are sadden, and staying my all-too-human desire to retaliate.....all those things have borne fruit for the Father's glory!

To know, as a man who seeks to be God's design for masculinity, and who has taken some time in the darkness of realized tendencies and wounds.....this was a bright light that dispelled the darkness......that in keeping, growing more deliberate and confident, in the words God laid before me for this time.....I walked into chaos and darkness and helped to create an environment for life.

And it has become a place of forgiveness, restoration and healing for the one who needed such.

And as I told this child of God as we concluded the meeting, "If this struggle has brought you closer to relationship with God, then I am glad for it's happening.

For out of the pain has come NEW LIFE!!!"

It wasn't the apology, if any was given I don't recall. It wasn't that this child of God was humbled and meek; far from it, they are stronger than the Devil has let them realize. It wasn't the 'justification' of what I've said, done, and refused; there was no soft, easy way to answer what needed to be answered, to do what needed to be done.

No, it was LIFE that bore me into that joyful and praise-filled communion home with God, who said....

"This, my child, is what I have done!"

LIFE created out of the darkness...........

What an amazing and wonderful God have we!

A story within a story....the acceptance of fear....

"My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." Colossians 2:2–3

The death that I seek, that of this 'nice guy' that I have been talking about lately who has haunted me throughout the years and hindered my growth as a child of God and a man seeking after His own heart, requires the one thing I fear, the one thing that I feel would not only be the death of the 'nice guy' in me but everything else that is me also. It has been the one word, discussing with my Savior this journey, that is the sum of it all:

Fear.

I still live with that basic fear that has formed itself in the childhood of my life; that moment in time when, disgusted with my failure (again), my father spoke the words that would shape and define my life's mission. "You won't amount to anything." Now, you may say that such a thing was too vicious and damaging to say to a child and you yourself would never do so.

Better to set up events, decisions and what not to affirm and create the successful boy that you want your son to be. My father wasn't intentionally trying to 'damage' me, but operating from the wounding of his own life....he figured that a 'little shake-up' would fire the passion that would enable me to overcome and succeed. The crushing of that heart was the result though, and I began to live a 'short-term' style of life; in relationships, in business, and in what religiousity I had.

Short-term gain, forget about the long-term risk.

I wouldn't be around long enough to pay for the crimes. You can't punish a dead man, and you definately can't get 'blood' from him.... Behold, the birth of the 'nice guy'. Now, I've realized, through the years the nice guy has refined and adapted himself to the realization that such a lofty dream, short-term living, wasn't being adopted by the world around him and (unbeknownst to him) God wasn't buying. Time and time again through this journey, I can pinpoint moments where I was living the short-term in hope of 'heavy penalties' and each time it was like an unseen benefactor would foot the bill and leave me there wondering where that Mack Truck that was supposedly coming on a direct collision course disappeared to. Disappointed, I'd move on to the next 'great failure'.

Driving into work today, with the 'light' dusting of snow leaving sheets of ice upon the roadway, I was struck at how...even with the empowerment of men that have no gain from edification or enclusion of this broken sham of a male member of this species, I live in a state of short-term....

And remain disappointed that the penalties aren't being assessed.

For that makes me responsible for the mess that my life is, has been, and makes it awfully hard to continue to place the blame for who I am living as now upon the moment in time of the wounding of my father. I have been given grace, through the powerful and effective power of a Risen King and Merciful Lord, and I believe in all my heart that I have faced the specter of forgiving my earthly father, gone so many years now only to find that I'm not living under that realization of grace nor the release of the wounding of my father. I have to face the ugly reality that I enjoy living in this place....no risk, no dealing...for after all, I'm just waiting for the Mack Truck incident......about the only thing is, I hope it won't hurt...too much.

I am coming to realize that it is there, trying to justify the fact that I feel inadequate to move forward and be what God calls me to be, that I have become complacent and quite happy to sit in this mired darkness, for it doesn't cost me a dime and doesn't cause me to have to begin to work my way out of the muck.

Convinced by the skill of denial that I am progressed enough to move forward, instead of being willing to mourn, grieve, and then bury the remains of my childhood in the grave of time, I have stopped moving and stopped growing because I've enough on my plate, thank you very much, to deal with. I want some peace, even if that peace is illusionary and more harmful than good. What was lost, either through the wounding of my father, the brutality of myself upon the remaining vestige of that ghostly image of a boy, and the decay of corruption that was the natural byproduct of such sinful and unrealized masculinity cannot be regained...in this world...for fallen state of man is linear as man himself and one cannot 'go back' to a way that was never realized.

That is where I have been fooled.

That is where I lost the responsibility I found on that Story Weekend and corrupted it with my own mired wounds. And that is where the 'nice guy' resides and is quite happy to call the shots. Not always, but enough to convince me that this wound hasn't been properly treated and healed and must once again be lanced to allow the poison to be released, and dug out, so that I can be the true man I was designed to be.

Instead of denying such a 'nice guy' façade exists, I realize the need to recognize him within my story…that story that is a small, small part of the larger story that God has told since the dawn of the first day and progressed through the life, teaching, death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus Christ. To realize my tendency to keep the 'new model' that I've received in the transformation of my soul into the 'new creature' to keep it 'new'.

Rather than lamenting the fact that I am going to tarnish, through the painful and sinful nature of the old, that new body…at least as I progress towards the final model in which Christ wants to present us, Paul says, as to His Father on that final day…..and that I'm going to dent and bash the sleek lines of its garments…

Realizing that God's warranty plan is good enough to cover the damages I cause.
As with my trip into work today, going through the patches of ice where it was clearly evident to me (though apparently not to those who flew by) that I was operating more by inertia than willful steering, trusting the ability of the laws of nature, and the dynamics of the car to carry me safely to the other side of the patch…..

I need to realize that much of my life, and the adventure back into the darkness of my childhood and my soul, is going to be like that sensation…..of being an unwillful participant in the science of inertia and gravity and willing to risk the damage of collision to get to the other side. God will know when the moment comes for solidity underfoot and when that sensation returns of friction, I need to be ready to 'give it some gas'.

Watching for that next patch of ice and trusting God to be Big ENOUGH to do what He plans in that moment.

Not to kill the 'nice guy', but to immobilize him with the fear he's used to keep me in the muck and accept him as a part of my story. But no longer a defining part of the larger story of God's plan.

It's time to end this chapter and risk the collision of my own making.

By taking the larger risk for the long-term gains.

Not by living a short-term life.

This is my story, not written for the personal gain of making you feel obligated to pray and stand in my stead but to speak to you and draw you out,

Into the Larger story of God's plan…..

"Here, little kitty, tsk tsk tsk….."